The Keeper
by Crimson Angel Sin
Summary: Dr. Linx is an aspiring chemist devoted to his work. Xanatos-an old colleague-becomes suspicious of Linx's secret project and has Owen investigate. Will they be shocked of what they find? Or will the project make its escape before they have the chance?
1. Moon Drop

_Disclaimer: I do not own _Gargoyles_. I just own the OC and the concept for this story._

_Crimson: So brain-dead . . . ._

_READ ON!_

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**Chapter One–**

**Moon Drop**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

It was cold and dark.

Just like always.

The acrid smells of various chemicals permeated the air, clogging every square inch of the underground laboratory.

Same old, same old.

The only difference was that _she_ was stirring tonight. . . .

A young girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen years was positioned in the middle of the room.

Heavy chains wrapped around her arms, legs, and even her trim waist. Iron clasps on her wrists and ankles held her suspended mid-air, high above the cold, tiled floor. Another metal band was placed firmly around her neck to keep her better balanced and her child-like face more-easily viewed. The moonlight streaming in through several high, arched windows showered the girl's prone form with a silver halo. Her already-pale skin appeared more lustrous and flawless–like chiseled marble. Dark lashes fluttered over her cheeks for but a moment as they slid open halfway, revealing two miscolored eyes. One gold; the other silver. Pale-pink lips parted only to release a shaky breath. She was far too weak to speak even if she had wanted to. Rich, midnight-black hair spilled down her back and over her shoulders in an untidy-but-beautiful array, spanning the entire length of her short height. White–turned a silvery-blue thanks to the moon–bangs swept low across her forehead before sweeping down on either side of her face and reaching just below her shoulders. Not a stitch of clothing concealed her slender form from prying eyes. Although it did not concern her in the least considering her current predicament, her unruly hair effectively did the job. Everything from her breasts to her hips lay hidden beneath the thick, shiny locks, the iron chains helping keep them in place.

All in all, she _looked_ like a normal girl based on such a description (if one discounted the odd hair and eye coloring). Alas, this was not so. . . .

The girl jerked her right arm, testing the strength of the chain. A sudden spasm of pain from her upper back immediately reminded her of the consequence of that particular action. She flinched at the discomfort. Glancing back out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the blasted things that were the sole reason she had found herself in such a position to begin with. She didn't know whether she should hate them or not. It wasn't like she _knew_ where they had come from. . . . After all the drugs that had been pumped into her system over the years, her very memories of the time before all this had taken place had slipped away. All she had now were those few instances where she had managed to rouse herself out of those drug-induced states to get a quick look around or whenever _that man_ wanted her conscious for one of his horrendous tests. Unfortunately, these memories lingered and refused to fade. . . .

Brisk, determined footsteps alerted her to the fact that someone was coming. She perked up (as much as she could considering the combination of the chemicals in her blood and the chains weighing her down). Her eyes swiveled forward once more, ignoring the still-throbbing soreness in her shoulder blades. She couldn't see well. It was more like looking through a haze, but she peered into the shadows on the other side of the pool of moonlight she dangled in. The pointed tips of her ears twitched ever so slightly as they strained to get a better access to the distant sounds which came ever so nearer.

She instantly knew it not to be the doctor. When he walked, it was more hurried and heavier, as if he was impatient to reach his destination. And he _never_ strode quietly. He stomped around, issuing so much confidence and authority in each step he took it was nauseating and obviously only for show. These footsteps, however. . . . Whoever they belonged to, this person was much lighter on his feet. It was almost as if he wasn't touching the ground at all! The sounds were so faint. And they weren't hurried at all. Calm and dignified. Those were the words the girl immediately thought of as she listened to this person approach.

Excitement bubbled in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't every day she received a visitor. The doctor, of course, came nearly every day. If only to run a few experiments or tests on her. Other than his face, she had never seen another. Of course, it wasn't as if she was awake every time either. . . .

An awed gasp from somewhere in the shadows brought her attention back to the present. She then realized that the footsteps had fallen silent.

So, he had arrived?

Her miscolored eyes settled onto a dark shape standing amidst the shadows before her. The blob of darkness slowly took on details, but before she could make it out completely, the person moved forward and into the light.

"Oh Avalon. . . ." the blond muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

She stored away that word, feeling that it may hold some importance for later. Then she continued to take her visitor in, memorizing every detail for no real reason at all.

Blue eyes stared up at her in a mixture of wonderment and horror. Wire-rimmed glasses rested on his broad nose. The man's mouth was agape, further expressing his shock. His skin was so pale it made the girl wonder if he ever got out in the sun. Of course, she wasn't one to ridicule. . . . Her own body was as white as the doctor's lab coat.

With a slight spark of interest, she noted that this man wore a business suit and that his blonde hair was combed neatly back. He looked like an up-and-up sort of guy (although she had no clue how she could tell this) so it made her wonder what on earth he would be doing in a place like this?

A strange shimmer played over the man's frozen figure. Her eyes–still half-lidded–widened slightly. For a moment, his appearance completely changed, but before she could get a good look, it reverted back to normal. Strange . . . .

"Dr. Linx," the blond spoke again. This time, however, his voice took on an edge of anger. His eyes narrowed, burning with a quickly-growing rage as he took in the girl's chains and starved appearance. His mouth set in a determined line as the man slipped a hand into his jacket's pocket and pulled out a cellphone. He hit a single button before holding the device up to his ear.

The girl simply watched him. There was nothing better to do, after all.

"Mr. Xanatos, sir," Owen Burnett addressed into the speaker, cold gaze still glued onto the suspended form of the creature high above him. Agitation still coated his voice, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from tossing the phone away and ripping away those chains from the poor girl. "We have a serious problem. . . ."

The rest of the conversation was lost on the girl. She felt a sharp pain in her arm–on the inside of the elbow. Glancing over at the injured limb, she realized that she had been reaching out physically towards the mystery man as if in a plea for help. Because of her subconscious movement, she had triggered another of the doctor's "insurances". The needle that had been stuck in her arm connected to a tube which–down below, at one of the several machines–had sent out a special chemical which would knock her out in the span of a few seconds. Already she could feel her eyelids getting heavy and her thoughts becoming more sluggish.

She focused, once again, on the man below. He was off the phone. Now, he was just staring up at her with a face full of regret and determination. Confusion made itself known for the first time that night. What an odd combination. She noticed how his sapphire eyes glared at the iron chains that connected her to the stone walls and ceiling. When his gaze fell back to her, they softened. His lips opened and moved as he spoke, but she was too far gone and couldn't hear his words. Then he began walking away. Panicking, she reached out again, ignoring the second sting in her arm and the ones in her back. She didn't want him to leave. She couldn't let him leave. Something was there. She knew if she could just reach him, then this man . . . maybe he could save her.

Her vision grew blurry and she soon lost sight of the stranger's retreating back as he melded with the shadows once more. Something wet spilled down her cheeks, but she couldn't take any more time to contemplate on what it was. The drugs took over her and she passed out.

The tears she could no longer hold in slipped down her cheeks and fell away from her face. They shone like moon drops as they fell through the air before shattering onto the floor.


	2. Throw It All Away

_Disclaimer: I do not own _Gargoyles_. I do, however, own the girl OC in this._

_Crimson: . . .Should I go to bed now?_

_Owen: Why are you asking that question?_

_Crimson: Because it's almost 3 am._

_Owen: And your point is?_

_Crimson: . . . ._

_Owen: I thought so._

_Crimson: I don't like you. I want Puck. **pouts**_

_Owen: . . . . READ ON!_

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**Chapter Two–**

**Throw It All Away**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

It was the commotion that woke her. The drugs had long ago worn off, but she had seen no point in waking up to the dark and cold of the laboratory that was her prison. Her eyes fluttered open, silver and gold burning in the dark solitude of the lab. Tonight, there was no moon. It had reached the "dark moon" stage. A phase she hated since it took away her soothing light. But, tonight, she found that she didn't really care. Sounds from just outside these walls were fast making its way to her ears. Screams, yells, and sirens–all deafened by the thick walls of the expansive room–pounded on her sensitive eardrums. She wanted to lean forward, to move, but restrained herself. What she wanted more was to not pass out from those drugs being injected into her system if she moved the wrong way.

A sudden explosion in front of her had her jumping, however. Bits of stone and metal went flying everywhere in a cloud of dust. Miraculously, none of the debris hit her. A forcefield had gone up in front of her. She had no clue where it had come from. She wasn't sure if the doctor had set it up or not. Even more of a miracle, though, was that the needle hadn't injected her with anything even with her abrupt action. She didn't try to test it again, however.

She watched as unfamiliar shapes came rushing through the smoke. Her miscolored gaze went from one fuzzy form to the next, counting in her head how many she saw.

_Three_.

Three objects were shooting directly at her with incredible speed. She didn't fail to notice that they were all _flying_, either. Quite an odd thing, considering they each had a humanoid shape. She used the word "humanoid" rather than "human" because, well, they all had a pair of wings stretching from their backs. . . .

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to her, the three creatures broke through the wall of grit, dust, and flying debris. They, of course, instantly halted at what they saw.

Her.

She didn't mind their staring. After spending so much time with just the sadistic doctor for company, a few new faces to look at were more than welcome. Even if all they did were stare at her with horrified and awed expressions while their jaws hung open. . . .

Her miscolored gaze quickly ran over the three creatures as they descended to the stone floor far below. They each had an anatomy similar to that of the doctor's–a human–yet there were such vast differences that she instinctively knew them to be of some other species altogether. Somehow, she wasn't afraid of that difference. For some reason, the fear she always felt whenever the doctor would step in through that iron-clad door remained nonexistent when facing these creatures. Curiosity filled the void where terror usually dwelt, causing her to silently study the three odd beings.

All had dark eyes, but each had their own skin color. One had skin as red as the evening sun whenever it managed to stream in through the little window high above her. A shock of white hair spilled down his back in a wild array, twin horns poking out from the strands of silver. His facial structure was vastly different from his comrades' in that he had a beak of sorts protruding from his skull. Although he did share a slight hunch which the smallest of the trio echoed as he stood on two strong, well-muscled legs.

The smallest of the three had an olive-colored tone to his skin. He was hunched over like his crimson companion, but had all four limbs on the ground. His tail whipped lazily behind him, catching her interest for a small bit as she watched the odd extension each of the creatures possessed. Her close scrutiny then went up to the hairless head where two horns–smaller than his red friend–grew from his skull. Sharp, white teeth poked through two thin lips as he poked his lower lip with one clawed hand in contemplation, eyes focused on the chains secured around her wrists before following them down to the machines on the far side of the room.

The third–and, consequently last–of them had teal-colored skin. He was easily the largest of them all and, also, had no hair, like his green-skinned friend. His sharp claws looked dangerous and lethal, yet–she would bet–the owner of them was plenty friendly and would only use them as a last resort when in the face of danger. His round face and chubby appearance gave her a safe feeling, assuring her that this particular male possessed a kindly personality.

One thing they all shared: wings.

The red and blue one had membranous wings–like those of a bat–stretching from their backs, waving in the air behind them whenever they moved. The green one had a similar membranous material connected to his arms and the sides of his legs, reminding the young girl of a flying squirrel which had made its way down into the laboratory one day.

The one with hair spoke up first.

"Uh, well," he nervously rubbed the back of his head as he shook himself out of his stupor. His dark-colored eyes stayed glued to her helpless form, narrowing at the sight of the chains weighing her down and the way her bones stuck out of her skin. "How do we get her down from there? Lex?" He turned to the olive gargoyle, a hopeful expression overcoming his initial shock. "Those things look too strong to tear apart," he said, indicating the thick iron clasps wrapped tightly around the poor female.

Lex nodded his head, already three steps ahead of his friend. His eyes had caught sight of the set of computers sitting beside those gigantic machines set against one wall. He, now, made his way over to them, bounding over to them on all fours. They would need to act fast to get her out of there. The others could only keep the scientists distracted for so long. . . .

"Already on it," Lexington assured, jumping onto the sole swivel chair before facing the glowing computer screen. He stared at it for a moment, then his claws started flying over the keyboard at inhuman speed as he reconfigured passwords and crashed through intricately-set-up firewalls. File after file, he searched for the correct password to release the prisoner from her bonds. "Get ready to catch her, Brooklyn!" he warned as he started shutting down various machines, chemicals, etc.

"Right," Brooklyn muttered, taking off at a run before leaping into the air once more. He glided on the wind currents which their fey comrade and his student had created for this particular night, circling beneath the silent young woman as he waited for the chains to fall away from her. "Keep a lookout, Broadway!" he called down to the blue-skinned gargoyle who was already at their self-made "door" peering through the floating debris. He turned his attention back up to the girl. . .and just in time.

"Got it!" Lex cried from the other side of the laboratory, clearly feeling accomplished at his genius and speed.

Red lights, sirens, and loud blares echoed throughout the stone chamber as the heavy iron chains unraveled themselves from their prisoner. All three gargoyles slapped their hands over their sensitive ears, biting back sharp retorts about the sudden flare of noise. Brooklyn, however, had to grit and bear with the sound as his eyes caught sight of their new charge plummeting to the floor. With a muttered curse at how stupid he was for getting distracted by a simple alarm, the white-haired male shot off towards her descent. His narrowed gaze followed her, watching the way her black hair wound around her small body, still concealing her nakedness while her white bangs fell away from her pale face, revealing her empty eyes. With a strong beat of his wings, he just managed to catch her in his arms. Her slight frame felt like little more than a child's body cradled against his chest. For a moment, he feared that he would actually break her. Her bones felt so brittle. The only thing powerful about her were the pair of extensions protruding from her back. Brooklyn maneuvered her in his arms as best he could, trying to get a good grip on her despite the extra, inhuman feature on her person.

"Nice catch," Broadway congratulated as he landed. Brooklyn rolled his eyes in exaggeration at his friend but kept silent, staring down at the being in his arms. Miscolored eyes stared back up at him, regarding him with voiceless curiosity. She lay limply against him, apparently not having any strength of her own to walk or even lift her head. "Hey," he spoke gently, eyes softening as he took in her childlike appearance. "We're here to save you." He watched as confusion entered her silver-and-gold gaze but, then, a light of understanding entered her face and she offered him a small smile before promptly passing out.


	3. Breaking Point

_Disclaimer: I do not own _Gargoyles_. I do own the OC in this story._

_Crimson: Okay, so, in this chapter, you will figure out what makes my OC so special^.^_

_Puck: And what would that be?_

_Crimson:. . ._

_Puck: What?_

_Crimson: **glomps Puck** Puck! Yay!_

_Puck: O.o_

_Crimson: You're my favorite character from _Gargoyles_!_

_Puck: Uh, well, that's good. **pats Crimson on head** Sweet girl._

_Crimson: ^.^_

_Puck: READ ON!_

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**Chapter Three–**

**Breaking Point**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

Sunlight greeted her eyes the instant she opened them. With a pained cry, she snapped them shut once more, pulling her knees to her face as she brought herself into a protective ball. Everything seemed to hurt. From the soft surface she lay upon to the raw feeling of her throat from having just cried out for the first time in ages. . . .

Suddenly, the light diminished and the welcoming darkness replaced it. A mysterious cool breeze swept over her curled form, easing away the worst of the pains throughout her tiny body. The sharp ache in her throat eased into a dull throb–one which she could easily stand. The too-soft surface beneath her became tolerable, as well, as her taut muscles relaxed in the pleasant coolness traveling over her skin. She let out a sigh as her heart slowed down to a less-frenzied pace.

"Better?" an unfamiliar boyish voice spoke, causing her to uncurl from her balled position.

Her miscolored eyes caught sight of a white-haired male standing at her bedside. His pale skin was just a shade darker than his silver hair, seeming to glow faintly in the darkened room. Playful, ice-blue eyes peered out of a childish face, twinkling with some inner light as if he were in on some inner joke which she knew not of. His clothing was odd–something she had never seen before–consisting of a purple cloth wrapped around one shoulder before falling down to his hips and cinched off at his waist by a strip of yellow. A red shirt was underneath that while a pair of skin-tight dark-blue pants concealed his legs. He may have had some kind of footwear, too, but she couldn't see that far past the edge of the bed. Curiosity getting the better of her, she brought her arms beneath her and struggled to push them against the soft surface she rested on.

The man's hands were behind his back and he had a kind smile on his face as he watched her try to sit up. His arms automatically came out to catch her when her own scrawny limbs failed to hold her light weight. He held her against his chest, sitting down next to her on the mattress so she didn't have to be lying down.

"My name's 'Puck'," he introduced himself in a gentle tone, careful to not let his voice get too high in volume lest it hurt the delicate girl's pointed ears. His fingers splayed across the middle of her back, rubbing small, soothing circles between her shoulder blades. He eyed the intricate designs on either side of his hand–one white; the other black. The black lines swept low down her back, connecting to the white one at the middle of her spine. While the dark marks were sharp and jagged–reminiscent of chaos and evil, the white ones were curvy and graceful–bringing to mind clouds, peace, and just all-around goodness.

The girl pulled away from his touch, shivering as his fingers accidentally brushed against one of the lines. She made a noise of pain before gritting her teeth in an effort to prevent any more sounds from escaping. Her hands came up to clutch at her shoulders, crossing protectively in front of her chest as she leaned over her splayed legs. Trickles of blood ran down her pearl-white skin as her sharp nails dug deep into her flesh. Fear and pain flashed in her wide eyes, echoing in her breaths which had become short, quick, and shallow. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins as vision after vision snapped before her eyes like a too-fast screenplay. She could not make out any of it, though, for it they were moving so fast that they all blurred together in an empty mess. The feelings and emotions which accompanied them, too, slammed headlong into one another, but became more of a whirlwind which swept her away from reality and prevented her ears from picking up the frustrated cries of Puck as he tried to snap her out of her painful stupor. The only thing she could feel–the one emotion her mind managed to salvage from the storm was the one which ran the strongest through all of them.

Fear.

Fear of what. Fear of who. It did not matter to her. Stark fear. That was all she felt. It was all she knew at that moment. Her instincts slammed up while her logic shattered.

With a burst of strength her body could not possibly have possessed, the frightened female leapt from the restrictive embrace of the white-haired youth who called himself "Puck". She landed gracefully on one foot, spinning in midair so that she could face the open door her quick eyes had spotted a nanosecond ago. In one sweeping move, she was out the door and halfway down the sunlit hall before Puck knew what had happened.

With a muttered curse, the immortal trickster took off after her, flying with all he had.

Her long, dark hair flew behind her as she ran through the maze of hallways, the white of her bangs flashing in the bright sunlight as she searched for an exit. Her miscolored eyes remained focused on the path ahead of her, intent on keeping a lookout for any possible obstacles in her path. Meanwhile, she kept her nose hard at work, sniffing out the scents drifting from various rooms–both opened and closed–as she sped past them. Every sense she possessed heightened to such a degree that no possible exit or entrance would ever get past her. Her spine tingled as the skin of her shoulder blades started to burn. She let out a hiss of pain but ignored the unpleasant inferno starting up on her back as best she could. Instinct told her this was necessary for her successful escape.

"Wait!"

She didn't bother to look behind her to see who had shouted at her. The tone was familiar enough to her, now, that she could tell it was the white-haired male she had met just seconds ago. A part of her wanted to stop; wanted to obey the command, but the other, more-pressing part of her propelled her forward, keeping her from consenting the concerned youth. Fear still ran rampant throughout her small frame as she turned corners and jumped flights. It would not let her go. The visions still flashed through her mind, but still they made no sense to her. She had managed to catch one image, in particular, but it would definitely not make her stop. If anything, it only made her run _faster_. . . .

Blood.

Blood splattered _everywhere_. That was what that image held. People–like her–on the ground and torn apart. Faces–which brought tingles of recognition and familiarity through her yet she could not remember them–stared up at her with sightless eyes, frozen forevermore in silent screams. Sticky, crimson liquid ran down the walls, plastered against the marble-white skin of the dead, and even stained their snow-white hair and clothes. But the worst part. . .the worst part was yet to come. . . .

With a heart-wrenching shriek, she leapt from the sill of an open window and into the afternoon sky. Tears gathered in her eyes but refused to fall as she allowed herself to freefall. A tearing sensation in her back made her cry out once more in pain. It was as if her very skin had been ripped apart from something coming out of the bone of her shoulders and back.

White and black feathers fluttered around her as she stretched her wings to gather the air beneath them. Catching a powerful updraft, the adrenaline-pressed girl tried to escape her blood-soaked memories. With a might beat of her wings, she took off over the city, growing farther and farther away from the castle sitting atop the tallest skyscraper in New York City. She more felt Puck then heard him when he screamed at her to stop and come back. Ignoring him, she continued, knowing he wouldn't follow. Tears streaked her face as the wind rushed past her. Her body–clothed only in a thin, white slip, now–soared through the air as she tried to ride out the storm of unwanted memories.

The worst part. . . . The worst part was _her_. . .standing in a pool of blood that was not her own. . . .

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**.::Sunset at Castle Wyvern::.**

"What do you mean you lost her?" Brooklyn roared, glaring at Xanatos's blonde assistant. "We trusted you! _I_ trusted you!" His fists shook as his rage overtook him, making his eyes start to glow a dangerous white.

A large hand settling on his shoulder halted his instincts in their tracks.

"Goliath. . ." he muttered, clearly upset. There was nothing he wanted to do more than rip the disguised fey to pieces, but, of course, he had to obey his leader.

"I understand your concern for the girl, but we must not let our anger override our better judgment," the purple-skinned gargoyle reasoned. That said, his dark eyes narrowed upon the straight-backed form of Owen Burnett–the alias of Puck. He, too, would like to know the reason why the immortal trickster had allowed the small, weak girl to escape his grasp. Being one of Oberon's children, Puck should have easily been able to retrieve her had he really wanted to. Lord Oberon had, after all, returned to him full use of his powers after seeing how well-trained the babe Alexander had been.

"Well, we're not going to find her by standing around arguing all night," Angela–Goliath's daughter–spoke up. She, too, seemed worried even though she had never actually met the young female. She knew her by appearance alone when her clan had returned home the night before with her in their numbers. "We can split up into twos, each group taking a different part of the city. That way, we can increase our chances of finding her before anything bad happens."

Goliath's hard features lit up as he grinned, proud of his daughter for her logic and intelligence.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Broadway agreed, also feeling pride of his mate. Wrapping a loving arm around her shoulders, he turned his eyes upon the rest of his clan. "Should someone go get Elisa?"

"I'll go," Goliath immediately volunteered. "Broadway, you and Angela search the east part of the city. Elisa and I will go north. Brooklyn and Lexington will go to the west. And Hudson? Take Bronx and search the southern part of the city, will you?" he turned to the elderly gargoyle, amused when his bearded friend sighed at the mention of carrying the gargoyle beast in his search.

"Aye, Goliath," he relented with a sigh. A grin lit up his wrinkled features as a new thought occurred to him. "My friend lives down there. I think I'll pay him a visit and see if he has heard anything about her."

"You do that, old friend," Goliath agreed with a grin. He turned back to the blonde "human" on the tower when he heard the obvious cough. He rose an eye ridge.

"If there is anything I can do. . ." he started but got cut off by the gargoyle leader.

"You can stay here," the well-muscled gargoyle commanded in a stern voice. "If she comes back then we will need someone here." He turned his back on the seemingly-cold secretary, intent on getting over to Elisa's apartment so they could start up the search. The sooner they found the girl, the better. His second-in-command seemed to have grown an attachment to the odd human in just a single night. . .and she was unconscious for most of it.

"Let's go."

They all leapt from their ledges and took off into the night, leaving a disgruntled fey-in-disguise behind.


End file.
